Deal with the Devil
by Courbeau
Summary: They say every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and once something is set in motion, it can't help but to build a momentum. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Take cover, Upper East Siders. xoxo
1. Chapter 1

Never was there a story of more strife

Than this of Queen B and her night-life knight.

xoxo

---

A soft suede purse brushed against the calves attached to dainty feet showcasing matching pumps as they clicked leisurely down the tiled hallway outside Chuck Bass's suite. Blair Waldorf trailed her finger tips over the smooth wall paper with her eyes closed and a small smile on her lips.

What want did to a girl like her was so frightening she was even scaring herself.

Blair stopped just in front of the door, knowing he was listening for her steps. She rang the bell and brushed back a stray lock of chocolate brown hair.

"Chuck," Blair greeted the dark-haired man that opened the door. He was wearing dark slacks and a linen button down shirt with a crumpled collar and a loose tie. Dashing.

She stepped over the threshold smoothly, dropping her bag into the glossy table at the door with a swish of her skirt.

"Maybe you could learn some tact for the next time you want to see me. Next time I won't respond to a 'make me cum. now' text. You should consider that a promise."

"It got you here, didn't it?" he smirked, pressing her against the door. With his hands on either side of her head, he crushed his lips against hers, feeling her breath catch and her hands run up his chest. Just a simple touch made his muscles jump under the fabric. He felt her smile against his lips.

"It's vulgar and not-at-all becoming, Bass."

He slid an arm around her small waist and pulled her to him roughly, latching his mouth to her neck and sucking. She whimpered.

"And yet, I think the fact that you know that if you show up, _you'll_ be coming makes you wet. Shall we test that theory?"

Pressing her back against the door, his lips descended on hers once more, smudging her red lipstick. Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her already searing skin. His hands rested on her hips, fingering the fabric of her skirt and rubbing it between his fingers. Fine quality silk; only the best for Blair, he chuckled. That had to say something about him.

"What?" she breathed in his ear, sending shivers up his spine and bringing him back to the present moment.

"Nothing," his fingers pushed under the hem of her shirt, brushing over the soft skin of her hips, raising the hair on the back of her neck. The fingers kept going, spiralling up her back and curling slowly around to her front, stopping briefly at her belly button. Her nipples responded like the rest of her skin and a strangled groan slipped over her lips.

She was tugging on his tie, pulling it from his neck. She dropped it started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt as his breath grated in her ear. As soon as the first few inches of his chest were exposed, Blair pressed her lips to his skin, searing him with her tongue. In response, his hands travelled up her flat stomach and his fingers pushed under the lace of her bra, the pads of his thumbs making her tilt her head back and moan at the ceiling.

Buttons flew in all directions and the shirt was ripped open by Blair, quickly exposing the rest of Chuck's upper body. It slid off his shoulders and Blair launched herself at him, her arms locking around his neck and her lips pressed to his again. She felt cool air on her lower back and lifted her arms, barely breaking contact with Chuck to let him pull the blouse over her head. Both began the short tip to Chuck's bed; Blair's ragged breathing mixed with his as she lightly scratched her nails down his torso, stopping at his belt.

Her lips slid over his shoulder and along his jaw line as she cupped him through his pants and squeezed a hiss out of him.

"Waldorf," he grunted.

"Bass." The belt was gone. He groaned as his calves bumped the foot of his bed and her fingers popped the button, letting his pants drop. She pushed him roughly so he fell back on the cover with a whoosh and a wave of Chuck assaulted her nostrils, forced from the blanket. Blair felt herself grow a little wetter with anticipation. She pried her Jimmy Choos off, ignoring the ankle strap and dropping them hastily.

Climbing on to the bed, Blair straddled Chuck with one knee on either side of him. A familiar ache was settling in for a long ride between her thighs, making her cheeks flush.

His palm ghosted up her thigh and under her skirt quickly, molding to the curve of her backside and pulling her down onto him. Both moaned as contact was made, hard meeting soft. Blair rubbed against Chuck, making his breath catch and she watched as his Adam's apple wavered in his throat with every movement.

"Blair," Chuck growled.

"Why do you text me?" She asked, building a slow rhythm of tiny circles with her hips.

"What-" pant- "do you mean?" Chuck's hips met Blair's and he hissed again.

"I mean," She leaned down and brushed her lips over the shell of Chuck's ear, tugging with her teeth, "Why do you text me?" Her hair fell loose around him, tickling his neck and his cheeks and his forehead and surrounding him in the scent of her light floral perfume, her delicate shampoo and the smell of her. As she attacked his neck with her mouth, he ground out an answer.

"Because I want you."

"Why else?" Grind.

"Uhn," he raised his hips to meet hers again. "Because you're the only one who does it for me."

"And why is that, Bass? Be a good boy and tell me what I need to hear." Blair pushed him deeper into the luxurious covers, feeling the fibres between her fingers and under her nails. She was hanging over him now, watching as he battled his body to keep attentive and answer the question. She watched his eyes for sincerity.

"Because you're hot, Waldorf. Because you do it so well."

"Do what so well?" She looked slightly confused, but soon her eyes left his and flew to the ceiling as the crease of his boxers rubbed her hottest spot and she whispered his name.

"That. Say my name. Just right. Goes right to my-"

"I hope your next word is 'ego'. Why else?"

He smirked, eyes glittering and dark.

"Why do you want me to say it, Blair?" Chuck pulled her down and kissed her soundly. "This isn't enough?" He ran his tongue along her lip and she shuddered violently, losing her pace and running her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, holding him there.

"Basstard."

Catching her off guard, he rolled them over, shocking Blair's skin with the chill of the blanket and grinding against her hard. She gasped needily and raked at his back with her manicured nails, leaving red welts behind.

"If it's so important, why don't you say it?" Chuck countered, getting himself out of a corner.

"I asked you first," Blair squeezed out before wrapping her legs around him.

"Does it really matter, if that's what it takes to get your rocks off?" He pulled his hips back and made its way up her thigh and scratched at the line of her panties, feeling her excitement.

"I," her eyes snapped open at glared up at him belligerently, "don't have rocks."

Chuck kissed up her chest and grazed her throat with his teeth.

"I will if you will first," he whispered languidly as he tickled her inner thigh softly, making her mewl. "You know you want to say it, just so I stop this and give you what you _really_ want."

"No. You'll cave first. I last longer than you do. You're like a fourteen year old boy sometimes," Blair grinned up at him.

Immediately, she regretted saying anything because his fingers were inside her underwear, searching out her little nub that was screaming to be touched. Her back bowed of the bed, but Chuck held her down with his weight.

"Say it."

"You say it," she whispered with venom.

"Say it, Waldorf." Blair's breathing came in large huffs and it froze in her throat as Chuck pushed up her bra and pinched an already pert nipple. She made him so hot when she was like this; competitive, passionate and writhing under him, almost begging for it.

"No," she growled after forcing herself to breath, "I'm not caving first."

Chuck growled, finding she was being just as stubborn as he was about this.

"Well," he pushed a digit inside her, curling his finger torturously. "I'm not either."

Her hips met with his hand and a growl ripped from her throat in determination as she shoved him off her.

Chuck smirked at her rumpled skirt, glistening upper thighs, heaving chest, and mussed hair. It was a special sight only he ever saw and he treasured it immensely.

"I'll make you say it first."

"You can try, B. But I guarantee you'll crack."

"Don't bet on it."

"Let's," Chuck smirked. "You crack first, you do whatever I want. No boundaries."

Blair cringed, red in the cheeks and still trying to get her breathing under control. Tugging down her skirt and reaching for her shirt, she ignored Chuck's obvious ogling of her chest and pushed her ache out of her mind so she could think. That was proving to be difficult.

"Fine. I win and you do whatever I say. I get what I want."

Chuck held out his hand for her to shake. She put her palm in his confidently, and he smirked.

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

Quickly, Chuck yanked her arm, sending her slamming into his chest, and his lips found her cleavage again.

"No!" Blair pushed him away at the forehead and smacked him across the cheek. His flesh stung hotly and he growled, going for her.

But she was too quick. She was of the bed, shirt over her head and grabbing her heels before he reached the spot where she was kneeling just a second ago. He could still feel the heat from her skin there.

He watched her stomp to the door and snatch up her bag.

Blair let the door snap shut behind her as she whipped out, determined to win, and Chuck smirked, knowing he would.

Surveying his room and his crotch, he lifted himself up and padded to the bathroom to take care of business. He could still smell her on his fingers.

---

One bad thing about making a deal with the devil is he always comes. To collect, that is. Xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

Spotted: CB pulling out all the stops. There's a very fine line between love and shiny things, according to Lady B. Question is: Will she finally fall for his polished sterling heart or something else considered prize?

You know you love me.

---

Blair was ticking furiously on her phone as she climbed out of the limo without looking up. The look on her face warned anyone not important to stay away.

Dark eyes watched her as she slammed the door, replaced the brown purse in the crook of her arm, finished texting with a huff, and dropped the phone into the bag waiting below. She jumped as the driver started away and sprayed up a puddle of street water that narrowly missed her tight-clad legs.

With a horrified look, she checked to make sure she was still immaculate.

Everything must have met her approval because promptly, she marched up the stairs, eyes flashing over people parting for her, turning to watch her heels step away and her hair swing defiantly. All looked well until you saw her up close. There were subtle differences only a handful could see.

She had a weird mix of determined glint and tired dullness to her eyes.

Her step didn't spring quite as much as it normally did.

Her hair was perfect, but something was off.

A junior didn't move out of her way as she reached one of the doors, and she smacked him square in the back with her purse, and he scuttled to the side, apologizing profusely. With a roll of her eyes, she stepped into the hall beyond, eyes open for any sign of smarm from the one and only.

Serena caught up with her and fell into the smart step Blair had set.

"Hey, B. You look tired."

"Thanks, S. Why don't you go find Loverboy? I'm sure he'll appreciate your honest company more," Blair snapped.

"What's up, Blair?" Serena frowned.

Blair scoffed and pulled out her phone, sliding it open and quickly surveying the contents of a message. The Yuki girl had nothing good to report and Isabel was rivalling Blair with her snarkiness, not being much help.

"Oh, nothing. Just in incurable ache and a new scheme. Nothing to worry about. I'll win."

Serena watched as Blair stomped off down the hall and clipped a younger girl with her bag. A deadly swish of the uniform skirt, and she was gone, leaving behind a trail of delicate perfume, suggesting she was sweet tempered girl. But, just as with everything else that was Blair, it was deceiving.

"You always do," Serena remarked before turning on her own heel, sending her blond hair over her shoulder and heading over to the English wing for Lit, riding boots scuffing down the hall. The phone in her hand lit up and beeped, attracting her attention.

-

Blair breezed to her locker, standing in front of the dark wood. Her eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. Her eyes cast around her inconspicuously, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. Her face slipped into a look of disgust at the girl a few cubbies down. She always managed to mix the worst patterns and colours, no matter how simple it was to match.

The girl briefly met Blair's eyes, dark with suspicion and haughty self-importance.

Blair sniffed as the pleb looked down quickly at her last-season shoes and hurriedly stuffed a book in her bag and shut her locker quickly. She took off in the other direction, nearly tripping over own feet.

Blair laughed to herself. This made her feel just a little better.

Having completely forgotten about her suspicious tingles, she opened her locker, immediately checking her reflection, tilting her head this way and that slightly. Adjusting her perfect hair, touching the red headband that was already in place, she smiled. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the tube of lip gloss from her mother's not-yet-released make-up line, the shade designed just for her. Slight shimmer, glossy finish, non hair-grabbing, hint of red. Blair applied a thin coat, pressing her lips together.

What did she have first?

Oh, yes. English with stuffy Mr. Walsh. Blair sighed.

That man needed to learn how to properly match his toupee with the little hair he had left. She sneered. He could never get a proper Windsor knot either.

Reaching in to grab her book of readings and neatly organized folder of work, she stopped.

Her blood froze.

There, on top of her Spanish textbook, placed so innocently, was a pair of shoes.

Gorgeous shoes.

Expensive shoes.

Cute-black-satin-four-and-a-half-inch-peep-toe-with-the-small-glittery-buckle-in-their-Clue-design Jimmy Choos.

In her size.

She squealed and did a little hop-jump, extending her hand into her locker to pick them up.

And then she remembered where she was, and why the shoes shouldn't be there. Retracting her hand, she whipped around, eyes flashing every-which-way.

Everything looked normal.

Teachers bustling, students grouping, phones chiming. Dismissing it all, Blair turned back to the 640 dollar pieces of art and lifted them carefully from their scholarly pedestal. She gazed at them with a lusty look in her eye and grinned. She knew who had sent these, and she knew what he was trying to do.

It wasn't going to work.

Eyes blazing, she put the shoes in her purse, grabbed her books and shut the door of her locker smartly before taking off in a flurry down the hall, phone to her ear.

Just out of sight around a corner, Chuck smirked, turned on his heel and pressed the ignore button on the phone vibrating in his hand.

-

Enough was enough.

Blair hadn't seen hide nor hair of the slimy Basstard all day. She had hunted him constantly, trying to catch him a few steps ahead. But wherever she went, people remarked that he had just left. He went _that_ way. Like, two seconds ago.

Rummaging through the chocolate leather bag over her shoulder, she pulled out a pair of large, dark, black-rimmed sunglasses and slipped them onto her nose. Pushing aside the eye-catching shoes, Blair grabbed her phone.

Still nothing.

She had been calling and texting him all damn day.

He was ignoring her.

An angry heat was licking up the inside of her abdomen. For more than one reason.

Cursing him and his excellent taste, Blair slid into the back of her ride and shut the door behind her, scanning the crowd of milling students for one last sign of the pig. The buttery leather brushed her thighs as she moved, and she let her head fall back. Leather reminded her of Chuck. Damn him.

Pushing thoughts of him away, she looked into her bag, satisfied that she had barely any work to do tonight. Flipping down the mirror folded up into the roof above her, she glanced critically at her appearance, squinting. Baring her teeth, she ran her tongue over them feeling for gross things and checking for bits. She knew there were none, but it was habit.

The limo pulled away from the sidewalk, and something moved next to her and made a rustling sound.

Knowing exactly what it was, Blair turned her head slowly.

Sighing, she tugged the dry-cleaning bag off the tiny black dress hanging beside her.

Cap-sleeve. Empire seam. Knee-length. Pleated scoop neckline.

Calvin Klein.

Again, her size.

A note in telling handwriting was pinned to the wrapping.

_Butter. Eight o'clock. Our table. Wear all of it._

Taking it down from the garment hook, Blair tossed the plastic cover to her feet and tilted the dress in the light from her window in rapture. It had a slight shine to it, like her shoes.

She imagined herself in it, glowing. She knew exactly what to wear with it. How to do her hair. She knew-

The car came to a stop outside her building and she quickly pulled the cover over it again to shield it from the slight drizzle outside. With a small smile, she stepped out of the limo, purse on one arm, dress over the other and a far-off expression on her face. Slamming the door behind her, she had to restrain herself from jumping up the stairs. Gracefully, she held her composure until she got to the elevator and climbed inside. Again admiring the dress, she held it up to her frame. It hit her just above the knees and it would hug her body, she noted, because of the well-placed darts under the bust.

Smiling, She stepped out of the elevator doors as they slid open quietly.

"Dorota?" She paused in the foyer. "Dorota!"

She listened to the hasty clack of the maid's shoes as they came hurrying out of the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

"Yes, Miss Blair?" she woman puffed, out of breath.

"I'm going out with Chuck for dinner tonight. I'm going to get ready. Don't bug me," Blair started up the staircase, missing the look that the older lady shot her.

"Yes, Miss Blair."

"Tell my mother for me."

"Of course, Miss."

As Blair reached her room, she placed the dress on the back of her closet door and her bag on the chair at her desk. Falling back onto her bed, her hair fanned out around her and she stretched happily, toeing off her heels and letting them thud to the floor. She let the stress of the day melt away when she thought about what was to come later on tonight. A nice dinner.

She was a hopeless romantic, and he was playing his cards as best he could.

She had to admit.

It was getting to her.

He was going to take her out. They would have a great time. She would laugh. He bought her shoes she'd been eyeing, he found a perfect dress to go with the shoes.

He knew her well.

She frowned.

But she knew him and something was missing. Unsure of herself, she got up and paused in front of the dress, hand on her hip. Frowning, she assessed it. Nothing was wrong. It was beautiful. He wouldn't get her anything that was not perfect. He was like that.

Tearing off the cover again, she shook the dress and the answer fell out of the skirt.

A set of red lacy underwear flopped to the ground and Blair rolled her eyes. He was going to get off on her wearing them. Because he would know without seeing. Because he knew she would wear them.

Grinning from ear to ear with dirty thoughts, she set everything down on her bed and walked to the bathroom to shower.

He did the worst things to her.

-

As Blair climbed out of the fog, she heard her phone jingle. Wrapping a plush white towel around her body and throwing open the door, she dashed to her purse.

_See you soon._

_-C_

Blair huffed and threw down the phone again, sitting on the edge of her mattress.

He always did this.

Damn him. He made her wet just thinking about him. All he had to do was spoil her. Treat her like the princess she was without complaint. And she was a puddle on the floor. It wasn't fair. The way he made her want him. The way she _ruined _expensive underwear when she thought of him. The way he induced that burning feeling, that white-hot throbbing between her legs. That unquenchable thirst. That goddamn ache.

Basshole.

Blair groaned. It was going to be a long night.

Turning her head in the direction of the clock on her bedside table, she noted it was seven.

Her head fell back on the bed. A very long night, indeed.

Her mind kept drifting back to Chuck Bass as she towelled her dam locks and pulled the underwear on, admiring the luscious red in the mirror. Against her pale skin, it looked delicious. She knew the by the end of the night, they'd be soaked through and she knew he knew it too. She slid the dress over her head and zipped up the back with difficulty.

Blair returned to the bathroom to style her hair. After much consideration, a loose French twist with plenty of free curled tendrils was decided on. With her shiny locks in place, she slipped her feet into the shoes Chuck had left for her in her locker, fitting the sling to her ankle and brushing her fingertips over the small dainty studded buckle and the soft dark satin. The insoles were cushiony, and she stood in front of the mirror, admiring herself like a budgie. She adjusted straps, picked at invisible threads, teased hair and shifted fabric until she was convinced she looked ravishing.

Walking to her vanity, she smiled as she tested her strut. Perfect.

Looking for the silver locket she had from when she turned sixteen, Blair got distracted and threaded some small silver hoops through her ears. Gazing at herself, she allowed for a giggle to escape. She flushed slightly after, scolding herself for such silly measures.

Pulling out the drawer to get to the chains, Blair scanned for what she was looking for. Not seeing it, she scanned back again. And again.

It wasn't there.

Frowning, she cast her attention over the vanity to see if it had been left on the wood top.

"Dorota, have you seen my..." Blair trailed off.

Sitting neatly on top of her jewellery box was a small package. A package she had never seen before.

Raising a shaky hand, Blair lifted it carefully and ran a nail under the lid of the box. Raising it, she gasped; her eyes clouded over.

There in the middle, poised perfectly, was a clear glass-like looking teardrop pendant with silver tendrils curling over its surface. It hanged from a thin silver chain and gleamed and reflected in the light of her room. It was beautiful.

With trembling fingers, she lifted it gently from the box, afraid she might break it; it looked so fragile. Up close, she noticed that there were tiny fractures in the heart of the pendant, making light bounce in all directions, giving the effect of air inside.

She reached up and clasped it around her neck, running a finger down the chain to the silver connector.

Sniffing, Blair stood, realizing it was nearly eight o'clock.

Grabbing a matching clutch, she stuffed her phone, make-up and wallet into the opening, snapping it shut and taking off at high speed down the curved staircase.

"I'll be back late, Dorota."

The elevator signalled her departure and the maid went back to her crossword silently in the kitchen.

On the street, Blair climbed into Chuck's awaiting limo and was whisked off to Butter with a smirk on her face and a devious glint in her eye, fingering the pendant lying on her chest.

---

Even the most expensive designer chains have weak links. Wonder which will snap first? The boxes are open and the bets are flooding in. Xoxo

**Hey.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed for the last chapter. xD**

**I love feedback. I really want to know what you guys think.  
Also, thank you for all the story alerts. I see you guys are waiting. In that respect, I'm sorry. No smut this chapter. I think it's the only one without any, though. Next chapter will have some, and it'll be up soon, depending on what sort of response I get.**

**Anyway, please review. I want to know if I got Blair right.**

**Shout out to my fab beta Oponn for going over everything and catching most of my mistakes. Without you, I'd be a wreck.**

**-M**


	3. Chapter 3

Spotted: A Hopeful Ego headed to Blair's Boudoir. Don't count your shiny pennies yet, Bass. We haven't.

---

The restaurant around the lavish couple was a bustle of waitresses, clinking of cutlery and constant chatter. The smells were drool-inducing: savoury roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes, the tang of red wine, and the heavy sweet-yet-bitter cocoa in the delectable chocolate cake slice in front of Blair. It glistened slightly under the soft overhead light, just like Blair's tongue did every time Chuck watched it peep out of its home to swipe crumbs off her glossy lips. She made a sly show of it, and Chuck watched, helpless yet aware of her sultry seduction.

Those lips never ceased to captivate him and hold him hostage.

Briefly distracted by their waitress with the cheque for the night, Chuck swept his eyes up and down the back of her, snapping back to attention and smirking at Blair.

She had her tongue flat to the fork, having taken the final bite, and was licking the last of the residue from the polished prongs, somehow managing to get everything between them.

This did not go unnoticed.

"You were always good with your tongue, Waldorf," he blinked slowly.

Blair sneered.

"You're disgusting." Simple.

"Oh, only for you. And I know you like it. Besides, if that's true, why hold back? I, of all people, wouldn't judge you if you just gave in. I always come out on top."

"Not that I remember," the dark-eyed vixen smiled sweetly.

Chuck feigned hurt.

"Oooh, Waldorf. Winning friends and influencing people is your specialty. Are you forgetting yourself? That won't get you what you want."

But it would get her pretty damn close if she kept it up. He was fighting to keep blood pumping where it was needed most as it was. He didn't need the innuendos and banter to help everything along.

"I can influence without making friends. Besides, you have no clue what I want," her nose turned up just a smidge.

"I know you better than anyone. Better than you even," Chuck slipped out, confidently slow. He leaned back in his chair, deliciously slanted half-smile plastered to his face.

"Oh, yes. I forgot. Do tell; what do I want, Chuck?"

"In general? Yale. Power. The upper hand. The spotlight."

Blair rolled her eyes.

"Everyone knows that, Bass. It's not exactly a secret."

"No," Chuck paused, "but I also know what you want right now. In this very moment."

Blair shifted slightly.

"I know you want control back; you're unnerved because you're slipping and I'm in the lead," he continued.

Blair made to open her perfect mouth and ruin his train of thought. Chuck spoke again before she had the chance.

"I know you want me. I know you want me to want you. To take you. Right here. Probably on the table. Maybe sitting on the chair. " Chuck paused thoughtfully. " You might not even mind a back room somewhere. I know you want to wrap your gorgeous legs around me and pull me in. You want to feel me. You want me inside you. You know I can make you come, and you want me to. Right now. You want to squeeze me dry, and you want it rough. You want me to stop talking because it's making you entirely too wet."

Blair's cheeks flared up and glowed as her eyes blazed into his. She glanced around, making sure no one had heard him. There were no shocked and staring faces, but the heat was still rising in her face and chest.

"And most of all, I know you wish it wasn't true, because that would make it easier for you to win," Chuck finished.

Blair was speechless at his mutterings. And horrified that it was so true. She pushed her chair back, snatching up her clutch.

"I'll be right back."

"Don't do anything without me," Chuck grinned.

"You disgust me."

"So you've said. But your panties sing a different tune."

Blair marched off to the ladies' room with a foul look on her face as Chuck downed the rest of his liquor, thinking of what was to come.

Mere seconds after Chuck had retrieved his jacket and swung it over his shoulders, Blair breezed by him, sliding her hand down his chest as she past him to get to her coat. Her composure was back in place to match the gloss on her lips. God those lips.

"Let's go. Come on," Blair said, distracting him from the common thread going in his head.

He smirked.

"I will."

-

Chuck observed Blair's cool determination all the way to her building with feigned disinterest. He could tell her body was reaching out for him and calling for his touch. He secretly applauded her reserve, knowing she would remain stubborn until he gave her reason not to be.

But he had the upper hand. She was wearing her cold mask, but underneath she was a roiling volcano of lust and want. His spoiling of her had worked perfectly. She was on edge because she knew it.

But again, he was facing a calm exterior. She even had her hand on his thigh docilely as she gazed out the window into the dark drizzle.

As they arrived at their destination, Chuck opened the door and climbed out, extending a hand for Blair. She took it gracefully and unfolded herself from the backseat, straightening up and stepping away from the vehicle. It was raining, after all.

Their eyes met, and Blair smiled, pulling one from him. How could he resist?

Placing his hand on her lower back, he steered them towards the front entrance of the pale building. Pushing through the doors, they called the elevator which arrived promptly with a smooth ding. Blair stepped in, moving over for Chuck.

He watched as she brushed water droplets from her coat and cheeks, taking care not to smudge any make-up. There were beads on water still in her hair though, and she didn't realise it. Her eyes flashed to his, noticing his observatory stance.

She was beautiful.

Even without the clothes and the make-up. She didn't have to be all done up to get his attention. Her hair was this mysterious dark shade of brown that still managed to appear to have depth levels; it sort of glimmered and shone from the inside out. Her eyes, again, were a plain brown, but once you really looked, there were brighter highlights in her irises, sort of golden tints. And then there were those gorgeous-

Chuck blinked as the elevator gave another soft ding and the doors slid open.

The lights were off and the house was dark as they stepped into the empty foyer. Chuck assisted Blair in removing her coat, making sure to train his fingertips over her neck and shoulders as he did so. Smirking, he hanged her coat in the closet nearby, forcing his facials to go flat.

Turning, he sauntered back to Blair.

"Well, I had a good-"

"Come up. With me," Blair added, taking a step backwards toward the curved staircase. She was disguising a look of desperation very well.

"Shouldn't we be avoiding-" She interrupted him again.

"Please? I just need help with my zipper and Dorota's in bed."

"When has that stopped you?" Chuck laughed.

Blair looked down at her feet.

"Fine. I suppose," Chuck sighed heavily. He followed her up the stairs, admiring the way the dress hugged the curve of her hip and carried over her bum. The heels made her short legs look miles longer, too. He had good taste.

Blair turned into her room, placing her clutch on her dresser and removing her shoes, placing them in the closet neatly. Chuck watched from her vanity chair as she moved like liquid around her room, putting things away and getting ready for bed. Standing in front of him, she reached up and removed all the bobby pins from her hair, waiting until last to pull out the hair comb to allow her hair to tumble down past her shoulders in large soft waves. It glinted in the dim light.

"Would you?" Blair gave him an innocent look and turned, sweeping the silky hair to the side so he could get at the zipper. Being the gentleman he was, he obliged.

"Thanks," she whispered, turning back around to face him slowly, as if debating something. Here we go. She was really putting something into action now.

Chuck watched as the dress slipped off her shoulders and fell to the floor almost silently. Raking his eyes over her skin, he felt a tug in his pants, turning his 'I'm-waiting-for-a-good-reason' bulge into a 'never-underestimate-the-effect-of-bare-skin' tent.

Her skin was pale and she had a few dark freckles scattered over her tummy. The red lingerie he had sent her with the dress fit her perfectly. The lace underwear clung to her hips and molded to her curves, and the bra cupped everything nicely, pushing up and together just a bit. The necklace he had put in her room hanged down into her accentuated cleavage, making the skin sparkle. As the smell of her reached his nostrils and went straight to his groin, his eyes continued up to her face, looking down at him with dark eyes. She had her bottom lip between her teeth and she was waiting for his reaction.

No words were spoken as she sat in his lap softly and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other hand rested on her smooth thigh on instinct.

Smiling against his lips, she curled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck and ran her nails along his scalp. Pulling him closer, she pressed against him, her skin jolting as the few cold beads of water that still remained on his jacket came into contact with her heated skin.

Chuck's arm around Blair moved so he was making small curly-queues on her back with his nimble fingers and the hand on her thigh massaged up and down.

Blair's tender kisses began to heat up, making it hard for him to keep everything in check. He struggled to hold back, but he managed to partially shut down his brain from reacting to her body. Of course, she couldn't tell. Everything was going as she planned it in her eyes. Everything was ready to go.

Blair pulled back and kissed down his jaw line to his earlobe, her breathing heavy and rasping in his ear. Placing her lips over his pulse point she sucked lightly, body curled around his. She was listening to his quickened gulping of air with satisfaction.

Standing, she trailed her hand down his arm and backed up to her bed, flopping down on it, expecting him to follow. Raising her small feet up, she used her arms to life her body and her feet to push and she scooted back on the bed until her shoulders touched the headboard.

"You're not going to come over here?" she said, a hint of hurt in her voice.

"What is it you want me over there for, B?" Chuck asked, leading her on.

"You know what I want. You said so before. I don't need to tell you what to do," she countered.

"Maybe you should tell me. Exactly what you want," Chuck inwardly smirked.

Blair paused, knowing she would not win if she did not give him more to resist. This would be fun.

"I want..." She started. "I want to feel your skin on mine." She trailed her hand up over her hip and her side, fingertips typing out a secret message as she went. "I want you to touch me." The other hand was at her neck, massaging nimbly, working out the knots in her muscles. She sighed happily.

"Mmmhmm," Chuck prompted imperceptibly. "Where?"

Blair closed her eyes, lashes fluttering. She ran a finger over her lips. "Here." Down her neck and across her shoulder the finger went. "And here." They walked down her arm leisurely, taking a lingerie strap with them. Chuck stopped breathing and concentrated on the bigger picture. The upper hand.

Her hand. Oh, god. It was at her collar bones. It was brushing the other strap down. The pendant between her breasts was swinging back and forth, casting flecks of light across her skin as it did so.

Chuck briefly glanced down at his lap, not really needing to to know that he was in a dangerous situation. It was getting unbearable, and she wasn't even completely nude and laid out for him yet.

Ah, no pain, no gain, right? Chuck sighed quietly.

The hands reached around and unclasped the lace, letting it fall into her lap and tossing it off the bed. Her eyes were still closed but Chuck knew this was hard for her too.

Chuck watched her nipples harden even more as the cool air puckered them. He imagined he was tied to the chair he was sitting on to keep him grounded. Although, that just lead to images of being tied up and at Blair's mercy. Not helping.

She cupped her breasts and gasped as she passed the pads of her fingers over the tops, bottoms and perky centres of his favourite squeeze-toys. Well. There was one other, but it wasn't attached to her. God, he would love to bury-

He snapped himself out of it. Mr. Walsh in a tutu. He played that over and over in his head.

Her skin was shrinking and her muscles were clenching and goosebumps formed all over her as she kneeded down her torso, dark lashes latched shut. Chuck's muscles jumped like they had been shocked as her dainty little thumbs hooked around the waist of the underwear that was the only garment left covering her. Slowly, the dampness was pulled down, and she shoved them off and flicked them to the floor with a toe. Her knees fell open and her finger lightly pinched the thin skin in the crook of her hip. "And here." Chuck was momentarily shocked when she spoke, he was so wrapped up in watching. She moaned and her eyes fluttered.

Chuck watched in torturous rapture as her digit slid down the valley and rubbed her clit. Her body flexed off the mattress and she moaned louder. Curiously, he observed as her nail grazed up the underside of the attentive nub, flicking slightly. He stared as her groan came out so strangled this time, it more of a grunt, and she involuntarily bowed her back, sliding down the headboard and moving towards the middle of the bed.

Spreading her knees farther, she snapped her eyes open, finding his and pushed the tip of a finger into her opening. Chuck clenched his jaw.

Fuck him. Hard.

Oh, how he wished.

"Chuck," she grated out. Her voice was gritty with want and strain.

Chuck's hands closed and unclosed, and his nails dug into his palms leaving slivers of half-moons behind.

She was tossing her head side to side like she couldn't find the right place, and her hips were gyrating with her hand. The muscles in her thighs were flexing and her painted toes were curling and runching in the coverlet underneath her writhing body.

"Chuck," she whispered again.

He stood up suddenly. Her eyes followed him.

"Chuck, I.." she stuttered as he climbed over her, wool coat rough against her skin, making her hair stand on end.

"What, Blair? What is it?" Chuck looked down at the flushed girl under him, body not touching hers.

"I-" She stopped.

"You _what, _Blair? Say it. It's three words; three syllables. Just fucking say it," he growled, nerves twitching in anticipation.

"I'm... _going to come_," she whispered up at him, eyes wide.

Chuck's face hardened as he watched her buck underneath him, keening with her release. Her eyes rolled back and her breath came in gasps, an unintelligible string of words falling from her open lips.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief and left it on her bare belly.

"You should clean up. You're a mess," he hissed in her ear. Hopping off the bed, he adjusted his coat and walked out the door with not a backward glance.

Blair froze in thought, climbing off the bed slowly. Her blood stood still in her numb veins. Her chest felt like it would explode.

He didn't take off his jacket. His shoes were still on. His jaw twitched. He didn't even touch her when she was coming. He barely moved.

As realization set in, a scream ripped its way from her throat and she hurled the handkerchief out her window, slamming it shut.

That motherchucker had 'check'ed her 'mate'. He had played her every move.

Which meant he was still in the lead.

"Not for long," she hissed, slamming into her ensuite and sliding open her phone, a furious flush on her skin and an unsatisfied burning in her chest and abdomen.

---

Spotted: A white flag in the wind. Is it a sign of victory or a call for help? We think neither. I'm nothing without you, xoxo

**Hey.**

**Thanks to all who took the time to review the last chapter, even though it was lacking in nakedness and sweaty bodies.**

**I see I have people alerting the story and me as an author. Please. Review. You must have put an alert on it for some reason, good or bad.**

**I hope this makes up for the lacking that I previously mentioned.**

**More to come. =D**

**Another 'hollatcha' to Oponn. She's the best sister/beta/best friend out there.**

**-M**


	4. Chapter 4

Spotted: Not-quite-Perfect hair. Waldorf, who got into you? I have a hunch and I smell scandal, UES.

---

"B, you look... happy," Serena walked up to Blair, stopping and carefully running her eyes over her friend. "Why?"

"What positive thinking, S," Blair smiled, turning from Isabel and her gang to face the blonde beauty.

"Well... Yesterday you were all mad. What happened?" Serena probed, curiosity and hesitation running rampant in her expression.

The tinkling of cell phones could be heard all around the courtyard, conversations being interrupted. The present one was of no exception.

"Can't I be happy?" Blair chirruped, extracting an equally happy sounding phone from the depths of her bag.

"Not without reason," Serena muttered, distracted by her own chiming device. One new message.

_What's this I hear? Seems Junior Bass can't get it up for Lady Warbucks. Is this from the Rumour Mill, or is it straight from the horse's mouth? Better watch your back, B; this Bass hound is out for blood. xoxo_

Serena sighed and her head lolled tiredly for a few seconds before she lifted it up and met Blair's eyes.

"B..." Serena said hesitantly.

The dark-haired schemer blinked innocently, looking up from her phone.

"What? I'm winning now. I told you I would; I never lose," Blair dropped her phone back into her bag, snapping it shut. "S, it's such a lovely day," Blair looked up at the sun shining through the few clouds that floated over head. "Stop worrying and go spend it with Humphery. I told you, I'll be fine." Blair smiled convincingly, and spun on her heel. The flat, silver buckles on her navy flats flashed up the stairs and she brushed through the crowd of identical Constance Billard and St. Jude uniforms in a flurry of pattern and colour coordination. Serena watched until the yellow headband disappeared behind a white column.

-

Blair jumped, startled.

Her phone was vibrating in her lap.

She had been so caught up in mentally kicking the girl next to her in French class that she had forgot she had placed it there, waiting for a reaction from Chuck.

"Je faire...Je fais...uhm, je faisais... no. Uhm…" the girl stuttered, unsure of herself.

Blair rolled her eyes and waited for the teacher to be busy publicly humiliating the girl before she made a move.

"Ms. Hannigan, did you do your homework? It does not sound like you did to me. The answer to the question..."

Seizing her chance, Blair flipped up her skirt. The phone was sitting in the crevasse created by her crossed legs, shielding the lump of the phone from the teacher. Slyly pressing a button, a message appeared.

_Consider avoiding me in the janitor's closet on the second floor._

_-C_

Blair's teeth gritted together. She was not avoiding him. It was him who hadn't shown his face this morning before class. He was the coward. She had no reason to hide.

Erectile Dysfunction was the male's problem. Not the woman's.

Depositing her phone in the pocket of her cardigan, Blair made her mind to go see him. Raising her hand, she interrupted the teacher's rant at the girl next to her.

"Madame Robinson, est-ce que je peux aller au toilette?"

The little blond instructor seemed stunned for a moment before allowing her student to leave with a hall pass. Blair jumped up at the teacher's okay, skirt swinging into the backs of her thighs as she made her way from the room. Hall pass clasped in her hand, she turned left, taking the corridor to the doors at the end of the hall and hopping up the stairs on the right. Hanging a left, she turned and corner, shiny flats clicking on the hard flooring. Humming, she continued around another corner, shifting her skirt up her hips a smidge and undoing the top button of her blouse. Swiping another coat of lipgloss on, Blair came to a stop outside the plain dark door the placard on it corresponding to one Chuck told her to meet him at.

The door opened and Chuck's hang shot out, gripping her arm and pulling her in. The door snapped shut quickly.

"Get your hands off me, Bass."

"That wasn't the tune you were singing last night," anger resonated from his chest as he spoke, his voice so near and breath spreading over her face and neck.

"I said," Blair shoved him back with all her might, "Get off me." She readjusted her cardigan and brushed jostled hairs from her cheeks.

"That was low. Even for you," Chuck's voice was guarded.

"Shoving your filthy paws off me? You know how to handle me, and that's not it."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," his voice was cold and angry. "Besides, manhandling you makes you wet. And don't try to deny it." Chuck was suddenly against her again in the dark, her back against a wall and her wrists pinned above her head. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and she was sure Chuck could hear it in the dusty silence of the cupboard.

"I knew you couldn't wait to get your hands on me, Bass. You sure denied yourself last night. I have to applaud you for that," Blair spoke to the darkness in front of her with a smirk.

"You give yourself too much credit, Waldorf," Chuck lashed out with his words. "You assume too much. I managed to keep my 'filthy paws' off you last night when you were throwing yourself at me like a common whore."

Blair gasped and he pushed against her roughly, shoved her shoulder blades harder against the cinderblock behind her.

She was whore? Not over her dead-mismatched-last-season wardrobe.

"You're a coward," she countered. "You didn't even show up this morning because of what Gossip Girl said about you."

"What you said about me," he growled in her ear. "And I'm here."

Chuck's lips mashed into her in an open-mouth frenzy, and she responded immediately, gloss smudging. The twin fires that had been left unquenched from the night previous roared back into life simultaneously, begging to attack each other through the clothes their people were wearing.

Blair was fighting against his hands, trying to pry her wrists off the wall and get at him with her nails.

"I didn't say anything to Gossip Girl," she fought out.

Her back was pushed off the wall and her chest was flush with his, heaving rapidly. Her breathing was coming in fast gasps and her lips were making up for her inability to free her hands.

"Then who was it, Blair? Because I didn't go to anyone else's house after yours, and I didn't say a word to anyone," Chuck rasped in her ear. Shifting slightly, he pushed one of his knees between hers, effectively re-sandwiching her against the rough barrier at her back.

Blair clenched her jaw to keep in a moan when his wool slacks rubbed against her inner thighs roughly, making her itch.

"I don't know. Maybe one of your jealous call girls," Blair bit down on the crook of his neck, making him hiss in pain. His knee shifted higher, making Blair moan softly.

"I don't have call-girls on my sped dial anymore." Chuck moved her hands up above her head and held them there with one strong grip. The other hand ran down her arm and squeezed a breast on its way down. Blair groaned again. "Just a desperate and horny slut."

"I'm not desperate," she pushed down against his thigh with difficulty, being held up by his arm. Chuck ground into her hip, making her bite her lip.

"And I don't have a problem getting it up," Chuck snapped. His hand continued down her side roughly and he pulled up the side of her skirt. Releasing her hands, her reached down and she hopped, wrapping her legs around him.

"I'm not a slut, either," Blair ignored his statement. Her hands briefly didn't know where to go after being freed from their imprisonment against the gritty wall. Putting them behind his neck, she rubbed quickly so she would get feeling back.

Pushing her harder against the wall still, Chuck's hands were cupping her backside to keep them up straight and find his balance. Blair arched off the wall prematurely, and Chuck stumbled, slamming against the wall again.

Blair's breath left her lungs and she couldn't breathe for about a second, when Chuck reached underneath her skirt and slid one digit firmly over her soaked panties, making her gasp.

"But you do like it rough." The finger slid past the fabric covering her, and into her waiting opening.

"Fuck."

"Like I said," Chuck smirked, removing his finger, and rubbing over her small nub with it. Blair shuddered and moaned again, right in his ear, clinging to his body. "Chances are it wouldn't take you long to crack if I kept doing that."

Blair grabbed a handful of hair and wrenched it back; Chuck grunted.

"I have a proposition for you," she whispered, grinding her hips into his.

"You know what my answer will be," Chuck moaned, grinding back.

"I've been eyeing these two Elsa Peretti pendants at Tiffany's. I can't decide which one I want more. I win, you take me and help me decide. All on your dime," she grinned.

"You can have both." Blair let his hair go and his mouth returned to hers frantically. "If you win." Their lower bodies moved and mashed together at a steady pace, Chuck's hardness brushing right where he knew she needed it. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" Blair laughed.

"I have everything I want," Chuck pushed her farther up the wall and licked up her neck.

"Not everything," Blair muttered. That spurred him.

"I can't have that until you crack under pressure," he threw back, snaking his fingers under her skirt again and rubbing her in tantalizingly slow circles. "My winnings will be Dorota. For a month."

Blair's head whipped down from tipping up to the ceiling.

"No."

"No? You can't say no. That's what I get if I win. If you win, you're spending my money. It's a fair trade."

"Fine," Blair pushed his torso back an unlatched her legs from around his waist. She walked him back against the other wall a few feet away. Reaching down she squeezed him firmly, and Chuck threw his head back, moaning loudly. Standing on her toes, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Consider it a deal."

Letting him go, she took a few steps back before Chuck caught her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going to sit here in this closet playing around with you. I'm going to win." She pulled back her hand and slapped him across the cheek.

Chuck swore.

"What was that for?"

"I told you to keep your hands off me." She smiled.

Chuck swore again and leaned against the wall. Bitch. Leaving him hanging all the time.

-

Blair turned and pushed the closet door open, not bothering to check and see if the coast was clear. Turning quickly, she made a dash for the nearest ladies' room. Looking in the mirror, she did a Nascar pit-stop speed job of fixing her hair, uniform and lipgloss. She stomped her foot when she noticed a button missing from her blouse.

Great.

She whipped out of the washroom, and dashing down the hall, skirt flying madly as she made her way back to French class. Stopping to gather herself before going back in, she took a deep breath. Pushing the door open, she stepped through, smiling at the teacher.

"Do you know how long you've been gone, Ms. Waldorf?"

"Sorry, Madame. Mr. Walsh needed some help carrying books from the resource room," Blair smiled.

"I see. Hall pass?" The teacher held out her hand. Blair looked down at her empty one.

"I must have dropped it somewhere in the books."

---

CB likes his girls in uniform. The thing is, usually the uniform has half the coverage, and is meant to be ripped. Don't forget: one good scandal deserves another. xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

UES, beware. You don't know you've fallen 'til your face hits the ground. xoxo

---

Blair and Serena were in one of the many shops and boutiques on a NYC serial shopper's hit-list, posing in front of one of the mirrors. Blair tossed a polka-dotted scarf around her neck, laughing, while Serena had a summer hat perched daintily over her blonde hair.

"Dah-ling. How prim and pro-pah of you," Blair stated at the sight of Serena's serious gaze.

Serena giggled and tossed the hat to Blair, who tried it on.

"Speaking of prim and proper, what were you thinking? I saw your picture on Gossip Girl. And then Chuck leaving that closet almost right after you," Blair glared at her. "It wasn't just me, B. Everyone saw," Serena continued. "So what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, S," Blair riffled through the other hats, face showing disgust at a velvet monstrosity.

"Oh, please. Even if I was clueless I'd be able to tell you're lying."

"I'm not lying," Blair scanned the rack of sunglasses, picking out a large black pair with a retro flair, much like the pair in her bag right now.

"Your eyes are doing that thing where they don't match your mouth."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blair slid the shades up her nose, surveying Serena in the mirror. "That hat suits you."

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not." Blair continued to peruse over the tables as Serena followed her. She stopped. "Okay. We raised the stakes. If I win, he takes me to Tiffany's, and if he wins, he wants Dorota." Serena's eyes widened. "For a month, S. Not forever. And, ew. Dorota. I hope he wants her in the conventional 'she's-a-maid-and-I'm-a-messy-slob' way. Just, ew."

Blair shook her head, and reached a manicured hand out to touch an antique jewelled hair barrette.

"Ooooh, B, that's pretty. Here," Serena held out her hand. Blair placed the cold metal clip in her friend's hand, and Serena pushed back Blair's hair and clipped it to the side. "Well. I thought you said you were winning. And it didn't look like it in the picture. It looked like you had lost horribly."

Serena stepped back. Blair turned her head to the mirror.

"I like this one, don't you? I think I'm going to get it."

The duo made their way to the front desk to pay, surveying items along the way. Blair stowed her purchase in her bag while Serena wore her woven summer hat out of the store and into the sprinkle of rain, both laughing and posing for each other all the way up the street.

Blair was in the process of being twirled by a laughing Serena, her world spinning and blurring and swirling in a sea of stone buildings, store signs and blazing cars. And suddenly, her eyes locked onto something solid. She stopped, swaying.

Blair's eyes did not move from the crème silk dress in the front display case.

It was short, hitting at about mid-thigh. Close cut. Bead embellishments on the neckline and bust. It was gorgeous.

And she had something just like it.

The memory of a dark room, thick with the smell of alcohol and smoke, and loud music thumping in her ears came flying back to her. The feel of the silk slip over her skin, along with all the eyes in the room. Especially one set of eyes; dark eyes. The reason she blushed every time she got into a limo. The reason she thought of Chuck whenever she touched leather.

"B?" Serena had stopped moving, noticing the look on her friend's face.

"S. I'm going to win. I know exactly what to do."

She was going to make him remember, too.

-

Blair knew Serena wanted to know what was going on. But she didn't tell her. This had to be her secret until she made it happen.

And it was _going_ to happen.

She was going to get new jewellery and anything else she wanted, thanks to Chuck. But most of all, she would win.

Serena had taken off a few minutes after they had gone into the store with the crème dress. She apologized profusely and hurried out the door, hailing a taxi easily on the busy street out front. LonelyBoy was lonely, it seemed.

Blair watched her leave without a backwards glance, and continued looking through the store. It was full of nice things, pretty dresses, and expensive shoes. But Blair was there for one thing only.

That dress in the front window.

The assistant helped her get her size and carried it in to a dressing room for her, asking her if she could get Blair anything else. Blair sent her away, closing the door. Toeing off her black patent flats, Blair set her bag down, let her skirt drop and rolled down her red tights. Off came the soft gray cardigan and the white blouse.

Standing in front of the mirror, she gazed at herself. She tried to imagine what Chuck saw in her.

Reaching for the dress on the hanger, she unzipped the side and stepped into it, pulling it up over her slender legs and small hips, letting the thin fabric graze over her skin softly. Threading her arms through the loops, Blair zipped up the left side again, tucking herself into the bodice properly before adjusting the fabric.

It was perfect.

-

Chuck Bass was in his element.

Shmoozing and rubbing elbows with investors in the company were his specialty.

A bunch of old men trying to gain back youth and increase net worth by sitting around drinking and gossiping like a flock of middle-aged socialites of the Upper East Side and trading inside secrets and business cards.

With class, of course.

Chuck watched as the men gathered in groups, so predictable. The older money-holders scoffing at the younger ones, looking down their noses before going to investigate the 'young grasshopper's method and query into his current investments.

He watched as the newer men inflated their egos and guffawed with each other, slapping backs and clinking tumblers, relishing in the talk of money and recent conquests.

The smell of rich cologne wafted about the room whenever one of them walked by his spot on one of the plush couches. It was at this time, where there was a lull that he timed his exit.

He was bored and everyone worth talking to had already approached him.

It was a Saturday night.

And he was chillin' with the rich fogies and young pricks.

Not denying to himself that he fit in perfectly with the crowd, he noted he would much rather be somewhere else.

Like at home. Or with Blair. Or in Blair.

A smirk spread over his features and settled comfortably as images of his princess flooded his mind.

The picture of her exiting the closet at school, all ruffled and rumpled and bruised. That made his own ego swell. Because everyone in the school knew it was him to do that to her. She wouldn't have let anyone else touch her that way. She was his.

He ran his eyes over imaginary Blair as she had slapped him square in the jaw.

Her eyes blazed in that way only he seemed to be able to achieve, and most times, it was without trying. Her lips were swollen – oh god, her lips - and her lipstick was smeared slightly and hair was tousled; that fingers-in-it, don't-give-a-damn, fuck-me-now-chuck way. He felt her hand crack across his cheek and felt the heat radiate from the flesh on his face and from between his legs. Her clothes were out of place and crooked, and her hair twirled just like she did when she had stomped out of the enclosed space, determination set in her face. He noted smugly that his hands had left slightly red marks on her thighs from holding her against the wall as her skirt swung after her.

Chuck blinked. The smell of her want stifled him in that stuffy room after she had left, making it hard for him to redirect blood north of his heart.

He chuckled.

Since yesterday, he hadn't heard from her. Nothing. Which meant she was up to something, a scheme to help her win, a plot against him. A valiant effort, he was sure. But he was going to win.

He was Chuck Bass.

Slow eyes cast themselves over the slowing scene before him and he downed the rest of drink before setting down the glass, jingling the ice slightly. It was a sign of his departure to the rest of the group.

They had one last chance.

Rising, he straightened out his attire and stepped out from the nook.

"Leaving so soon, Mr. Bass?" one of the wrinkly grey ones asked.

"Yessir, Mr. Johnson. The hour is late," Chuck drawled.

"Oh, not for you, Charles. We both know that." The elder man regarded Chuck with calculating grey eyes.

"I have other business to attend to," Chuck responded fluidly. He was not going to stay any longer in this cesspool of dying youth. There was only so much one could handle.

He swore he was losing more brain cells here than he would be if he and Nathaniel were holed up in Central Park sharing a joint.

"Well, have a good evening. I hope the business goes well. If I know you, you'll score the deal." Looking down his nose at Chuck, the well-dressed bag of bones moved off to judge others with his close-knit group of fellow critics.

Oh, Chuck would seal the deal. He had his plans.

Retrieving his coat, he ambled out of the room while calling his limo around. Buzzing the elevator, his stepped suavely through the doors and they slid closed behind him.

As the motor above him whirred quietly, he wondered where Blair was. He wondered what her plans were. He wondered how good they were.

He may be only one around who never underestimated Blair Waldorf. She always had a plan. The girl had the world in the palm of her hand and Chuck Bass wrapped around _all_ of her fingers, which looked great accompanying her mouth wrapped around-

_Ding._

Smirking, he stepped out of the carriage and into the lavish foyer.

His weakness: Her mouth. He knew this. And so did she. His bet? She would give just what he wanted in order to win. How very Blair.

His limo pulled up outside the building, blending in with the dark of the night and the slicked streets trickling with rain.

Dashing out to the door and greeting his driver, he slid into the seat greeted by the warmth of heated leather seats. A minute later, the engine purred and they were slipping out into minimal traffic. Down the block they progressed, and Chuck watched the people on the sidewalk as they passed by.

Up ahead there was an umbrella making its way down Fifth Avenue. And under the umbrella was Blair. Chuck looked around. No-one was with her. She was close to home.

He rolled down his window to get a better look.

She was walking along, white dress swinging enticingly and exposing plenty of upper thigh. She was gabbing on her phone. Typical.

Signalling his driver, Chuck felt the car slow and come to a stop beside her.

"No, S. You promised to meet me. You dashed off this afternoon to help Cabbage Patch," Blair paused, presumably to let Serena explain herself. Her curls bounced threateningly. "Fine. I'm going home anyway. Don't bother." Blair slid her phone closed and continued down the street.

"Waldorf," Chuck called.

Blair's heels came to a stop and she turned, unhappy expression on her face.

"Go away, Chuck." Her eyes flashed.

"Serena chose Humphrey over you again? That girl needs to re-evaluate her priorities, don't you think?" Chuck gazed out at her. The dress had a slight glittering in the bodice and the light from the streetlamps caught it as she moved. Or rather, as she stood still.

"Yes. Now go away. I don't want to talk to you."

"We don't have to talk." Chuck smirked.

"I said _go away, _Chuck."

With a flash of silver clutch and the shine of silk, Blair was walking down the street ahead of the car, heels clicking softly. He noted they were the ones he got her a few days ago.

Images of her lying on her back with her legs spread for him flashed before him.

Chuck requested that the driver follow her slowly.

"Oh, come on, Waldorf. Get in. I'll take you home. It's raining."

"I'm almost there, thank you."

"You wouldn't want to ruin those shoes, would you? Come on. Be reasonable. Get in the limo."

Blair had stopped again. He knew she was contemplating his point. She turned, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Move over." Approaching the black vehicle, she opened the door, and collapsed her umbrella, sliding in next to Chuck quickly. "But take me home."

"Fine."

The limo started to move again off up the street towards Central Park.

Blair's dress slid up her thighs as she adjusted herself in the seat, putting her umbrella down by her feet and slipping her phone back into her clutch. Crossing her legs, she flipped down the mirror in front of her seat and reached up to fix her hair, slightly damp from the rain. Chuck watched as the dress moved farther north, grazing the very tops of her legs. The fabric clung to her torso, and he could see her chest rise and fall making the material ripple slightly. Her perfume was faint but it settled in his nose with purpose.

Chuck leaned in.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he stated.

"Do what?" Blair lowered her arms and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You know exactly what you're doing. And so do I."

"And why shouldn't I do it?" Blair smirked, immediately dropping the innocence. "Afraid you might lose?"

"Not a chance," Chuck leaned farther in and placed a light kiss on the side of her neck and she sighed infinitesimally at his touch. "But what about you?"

Chuck had moved to her mouth and things were heating up quickly. Very quickly. His hand was running up her exposed thigh and dragging her closer to him. Her lips were ravishing his. His palm came to rest on her backside, keeping her tilted against him while his other hand was in her hair.

"'What about me' what?" she breathed. Her fingers were working the buttons on his shirt and soon it was undone, his bare chest hovering over her, open for her to tend to.

"Aren't you afraid that you might lose?" Chuck questioned. "Are you going to stop again this time, or let me win? Aren't you afraid you won't be able to stop yourself when I have my fingers inside you and you're begging me to make you come apart at the seams? You won't forget about trying to win when I-"

Blair shoved his shoulders back and swung her leg over his lap, staring him straight in the eye before pulling the shirt off his back bringing his lips back to hers heatedly. Gyrating her hips suddenly against his, she ran her lips over the shell of his ear.

"I'm not afraid of _you_, Chuck Bass." She paused. "In fact, it's you who should be afraid of me. Aren't you afraid I'll end up on top? I know how you like it when I'm on top, Bass. Will _you_ forget about winning when I have you squirming under me?" Blair kissed down his neck and up his jaw. She felt him stir more against her inner thigh. Too easy.

Chuck cursed her and gripped her hips, pushing her down onto him harder. She locked lips with him again, moaning into his mouth.

"I'm not sure it'll be _me _squirming," Chuck sighed slowly.

"If you thought that I wouldn't notice that I'm not home yet, you were wrong. Why am I not home?"

"Because I told Arthur to keep driving. I figured we could use some time."

"You never need much time, Bass." Blair smirked, reaching down and unbuckling his belt and removing it, grazing him. His hips rose up at her touch and she smirked wider.

In retaliation, Chuck's fingers squeezed Blair's thigh and snaked up over her hip and rubbed her centre slowly. Her head tipped back and she gave a strangled moan to the roof of the limo.

"Neither do you, Waldorf." Chuck poked his digits past her soft underwear, rubbing her properly, elicting more moans from her mouth and making her hips push closer to him again.

Blair must have found some concentration, because soon the button of his slacks was popped and the zipper was vibrating against him as she pulled it down. He lifted up for her so she could shimmy the pants down to his knees and drop to his ankles swiftly. Her hand was in his boxers much sooner than expected, and he was grunting into her neck as she kissed over his shoulder. His fingers still wandered and rubbed her, and he could hear the occasional hitch in her breath and the quiet mewls of satisfaction that she couldn't keep down.

Taking a deep breath, Blair forced herself to pull his hands out from under her as she slipped off his lap, her knees hitting the bottom of the car softly.

"But I know what you like," Blair looked up at him, eyes dark and almost unreadable.

Oh god. Chuck panicked. He was going to lose. He knew it.

Blair twisted her fingers in the sides of his boxers and tugged them down to sit with his pants at his feet. He saw her tongue sweep across her red-painted lips and he tried not to shake in anticipation. Her nails dragged up his calves and thighs and she pulled herself up and pushed his knees farther apart to she could position herself just right. She extended her hand and wrapped her fingers around the base of his hardness, and watched him as he gulped noticeably. Her eye brow arched and Chuck watched as she leaned forward and ran her tongue from her fingers up and wrapped her lips around his head. The muscles in his legs clenched and the ones on his abdomen rippled. His breathing came faster as Blair's mouth encased him and he tipped his head back to rest on the leather behind him. One of his hands tangled in her hair as she pulled back up and her tongue swirled and twisted against him. She started out slow but quickly, that changed. Her pace picked up and Chuck struggled to keep his hips from moving too much. She hated it when she gagged because he couldn't keep still.

Chuck's hand pressed against the leather, squeaking from the clamminess of his skin. He felt a tightening in his stomach and a tingling started in his spine.

Trust Blair to able to make him come in minutes.

Fuck.

He wasn't going to be able to stop her.

He watched himself disappear between her lips and her leave red lipstick on his skin where she stopped.

Feeling him struggle more under her, she looked up at him and lifted off him. He hissed at the loss of warmth, but she kept her hand moving slowly to keep his attention.

"Chuck," Blair whispered.

Chuck groaned, moving against her hand. He locked his jaw, trying to hold back.

"Chuck, just say it." Blair's eyes were wide as she stared up at him, hair tousled like it had been in the closet yesterday. Her lipstick was smudged too.

Oh, god. He could feel it racing up his back and over his skin, giving him the chills. He could feel Blair's hand on his thigh, hot compared to his skin.

"Three words, Bass. Eight letters. Just say it. And I'm yours," she begged softly.

"I...I-" Chuck Bass steeled himself again.

"Say it."

"I..."

With a scream of frustration, Blair released Chuck and banged on the driver's shut window. The car acme to stop and she grabbed her clutch and umbrella.

It all happened so fast, Chuck barely had time to react.

"Blair!"

She opened the door to the cool rain and climbed out quickly, heels again clicking on the pavement.

"No Chuck. Just don't. You did that same thing to me."

"Get back in," Chuck was pulling his boxers on and his pants up again, craning his neck to the door and looking up at her. "I'll take you home."

Her eyes were still dark but tears sat on the rims of them.

"I'll walk."

The door slammed in his face.

Chuck watched her walk away swiftly, dress swinging dangerously. She was two blocks from home. She would be fine.

"Arthur," Chuck called.

The limo started up again.

Blair knew his other weakness was a teary girl.

Bitch.

Doing up his belt again, Chuck looked out the opposite window and watched the rain fall.

---

Spotted: Queen B on her knees, stooping to new lows and old backseats. Didn't anyone tell her that was old news? You know you love me. xoxo

**Okay!**

**I know it's been a while; I apologize. There were birthdays in the family and then I had a major amount of tests.**

**And then to top it off, I got sick.**

**So, again, I'm sorry. I know I kept you waiting.**

**I'm going to start on the last chapter tonight so it doesn't get left so long.**

**As always, please review.**

**EXCEPT. This time with the review, I want to know who you think is going to win. And who you want to win, if they're different people. I'm taking an unofficial poll.**

**It won't change my decision, but I still want to know what you think.**

**-M**


	6. Chapter 6

When a warhead goes off, it leaves destruction in its wake. This bomb will leave a mess, a stubborn stain, and an unprecedented two casualties. Who will emerge from the rubble, I wonder? One thing is certain on the Upper East Side - what goes around, comes around. xoxo

---

Chuck Bass was the Devil.

And he wasn't even in disguise. It was plain for anyone to see.

That was okay with Blair. She'd just quit the position of Advocate. No more games. He didn't say it, even when she had gotten on her knees and begged.

_Begged._

Blair Waldorf does not beg.

And it still didn't make a difference.

Although, the tears she forced out probably tortured him for at least a few hours last night, she doubted he'd ever tell her straight out.

That was okay with Blair. She could make his life a living Hell whether she was in it or out of it.

It was all up to him.

Steam drifted out from her bathroom, pluming up to the ceiling and disappearing. She dropped the towel from around her slim body on the end of her bed, letting the cool air of her room shock her heated skin, making it contract and the tiny hairs stand on end. Blair set a bottle of lotion on her vanity and lifted a foot to the seat of the chair there. Pumping cream onto her hands, she smoothed it down the freshly shaved skin of her calves, rubbing in circles to increase circulation; she had cold feet all the time.

Damn him.

Why couldn't he just _say_ it?

She had said it to him before. Blair suspected that she'll never _quite_ forgive him for being so callous, and leaving her in Tuscany for the summer. But she couldn't hold his father's death and that stressful time against him. She just could never have lived with herself if she hadn't tried to help.

Moving to her arms, Blair licked her lips and sighed.

That summer could have been an epic tale of love. And hot steamy sex. But he didn't bother _showing up. _

Blair shivered at the thought of sex with Chuck. Her body was wound so tight from not getting what she needed; she was ready to go off the deep end at a moment's notice. The want thrummed through her veins at all times, threatening to ruin her at times.

The bottle was placed back in the humid bathroom in its spot on the counter, ready to use for next time. If she didn't stop thinking about Chuck while naked and touching her own skin, she'd end up crazy again. And as always, he wasn't even in the goddamn room.

She needed to get her mind off of Chuck Bass. It was an unhealthy addiction.

-

Chuck needed a drink. A really stiff drink.

Maybe he could get so smashed tonight, his blood would quit rushing south of the border at the mere thought of Blair.

Blair on her back, hand between her legs. Blair against a wall, biting his shoulder to keep from crying out. Blair on her knees, sucking him off. Blair...

Fuck Blair. Oh, how he'd love to. Just to get her against anything. To feel her, and make her feel him. To make her _scream_.

Chuck smirked.

And she would scream. She'd scream his name. She always did.

She was predictable like that.

Chuck sighed, realizing he had to take his mind off Blair. Rolling his eyes, he realized that would never happen. He knew her too well and he placed himself in the line of fire at all times to be near her without even realizing what he was doing.

Fuck Blair.

Chuck leaned back in the plush chair, downing the rest of his drink, setting his glass down and popping the button on his pants, smirking and closing his eyes.

-

Blair stood in front of her full-length mirror, surveying herself and then glancing at the dresses she had lain out on her bed, complete with shoes, accessories and bags.

What was going to make her feel sexiest tonight?

The red, hip-hugging, havoc-wreaking piece of art that hit her knees with black stilettos, or the white strapless formed bust accentuated with the black band around the ribs with the flowing white chiffon that barely brushed at the middle of her thighs paired with the red sling-backs?

Still pondering, Blair raided her underwear drawer, looking for something that made her strut like no-one's business, knowing what she had on underneath her proper clothing.

Her eyes landed on the red lace set that Chuck had sent her... How many days ago? Today was Sunday. She'd dined with him at Butter on Thursday. Three days.

Just looking at her made her want to feel Chuck's hands on her, even thought that night he had stuck it out and not even touched her once.

Basstard.

Pushing the red aside, Blair rifled around a bit before sighed, closing her eyes and mixing everything together, shoving her hand in and pulling out the first thing she felt.

The fabric was tell-tale and Blair huffed, opening her frustrated brown eyes.

Red lace. How typical.

-

Chuck Bass made his way to a darker corner of the purple-tinged club, settling down on a padded bench against the wall. He crossed his ankles and shuffled farther back behind the table, not bothering to remove his jacket, let alone his scarf.

If he knew Blair – and know Blair, he did – she would be here before five minutes was up.

Strutting in, and making her way to the bar. She'll probably be on the phone with Serena, bitching about something. Scowling, maybe. Miserable.

Chuck liked to believe that all she thought about these days was him, now that she wasn't getting her fix once or twice a day. Fuck, he liked to believe she thought about him all the time, period. But that was mainly out of recently developed bitterness because he thought about her just short of ten times a fucking second.

When the waitress asked him what he wanted, he replied with strict instructions to get him his drink and leave him alone after that. She hastened away with a flick of her black skirt to fetch him a glass of scotch. She returned in what seemed like thirty seconds, setting the tumbler down and disappearing quickly into the throng of people that had just walked through the door.

A mass of colours and a raise in the room's decibel level distracted Chuck. Many of the dresses were varying shades of pink and fuchsia and lots of ruffles were to be had in this one group of females. Chuck licked his lips, surveying the fresh meat and exposed skin.

The brunette chick had on a skirt that exposed the bottom of her ass cheeks.

Another girl had this nice tan on her toned skin. The dress she wore was dark, luscious purple that screamed for attention and spoke of a rank she didn't hold. The bottom hem extended down to her knees, but as she turned, he saw the neckline that plunged to her bellybutton.

Chuck scoffed. As much as he enjoyed the expanse of girly skin and the heavy scent of lingering perfume, his princess had Gucci bags with more class than these commoners. Besides, the tantalizing thought of what she looked like _under_ her clothes and the intoxicating scent that was Blair was much more of a turn on.

Speak of the devil, Chuck turned.

Blair walked into the club, looking nothing like he thought she would.

She had her head held high and commanded attention as soon as her dainty blood-red heels set foot on the hardwood floor. The crowd moved for her and males turned to watch her breeze past everyone with ease while the females scowled at the reactions of their counterparts.

Chuck was caught off guard and had to snap himself back into slime mode as she walked to the bar, as predicted. She was in a strapless white wispy thing with a black band cinched under her breasts. Chuck watched as the tops bounced slightly with every step. It fell to her thighs, brushing back and forth. The bottom moved with her body and swung lightly into the backs of her legs with her strides. The muscles of her legs that she kept in shape by wearing heels so often flexed discreetly and she clutched her phone in her hand, pressing it to her ear, as predicted. She lips were painted red again and she was speaking calmly.

Maybe she wasn't bothered that Serena couldn't meet her.

But why? Chuck frowned.

She took a seat on one of the bar stool, immediately ordering a drink. The bartender scurried about for her, whipping up a bright blue beverage for her and tipping it into a sleek martini glass. Sliding back onto the seat of the stool gracefully, she took a sip and set the glass back down. Slipping her phone back into her bag, she set it on the bar in front of her.

A man walked up beside her, leaning against the wood and grabbing her attention with a slimy come-on. He was dressed in a button-down and black slacks, classic look.

Chuck watched, surprised, as Blair smiled and laughed and made a general gesture with her hand, a flick of the wrist.

Chuck's general observing face turned south as the man sat in the seat next to his Blair and they began talking animatedly.

Blair's face lit up and her white teeth flashed against her lips as they moved rapidly. Her and the guy seemed to be getting along quite nicely.

Bitch.

Fifteen minutes into their conversation, Chuck's hawk eyes caught the guy's hand land on her thigh and make circles over Blair's skin with his thumb.

Chuck felt the heat rising up his chest.

This was not going to happen.

Trying desperately to keep himself in check, he stared at Blair stoically, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes closed, and when she opened them a fraction of a second later, he was shocked to find her eyes on him, glinting.

That girl would be the death of him.

-

That Basstard.

He thought he could get away with refusing to tell her how he feels about her, and the spying on her? No way.

And now he was coming this way, sliding through the crowd like a predator locked on to his prey. His eyes were dark and his jaw was tight, but his step was deadly.

"Get your hands off her," Chuck's voice was deep and raspy. Threatening.

"Go away, Chuck," Blair responded, flicking her hair at him breaking conversation with the dispensable guy in front of her. He was sweet, but he wasn't her type.

"I'm only concerned for your welfare. You chaffed your knees quite a bit last night, Waldorf. Wouldn't want him infecting you with something when the wounds are still _fresh_."

Blair blushed and her cheeks glowed hotly and Chuck smirked, watching the heat spread down her chest.

"One liners, Chuck?" Blair scoffed. "It's not a gift anymore. Go _away_."

"Only if he does." Chuck looked down at the male in the seat beside Blair.

"Hey man. I don't want trouble."

Blair watched as Chuck's glare made the guy look down at his feet. He was fidgeting and playing with the hem of his shirt almost imperceptibly.

"Then go back to the crowd from whence you came. And tell all your buddies that she's off limits."

Blair's mouth dropped open as the guy-who's-name-she-couldn't-remember took off into the throng. She turned to Chuck slowly, mouth still agape.

"Close it or put it to good use, Waldorf."

Blair's hand cracked across his cheek. Her eyes glittered with fury.

"You think that you can just lead me on, and never give me answers and follow me around, expecting me to trail after you and play games until someone wins? News flash, Bass. I'm not going to."

"I _beg_ to differ." Chuck sneered, looking down at her face, his cheek reddening.

Blair turned, dismissing him and his spiteful comment.

"Believe what you want, Bass. But leave me alone while you're doing it."

Grabbing her clutch and drink, she slid off the stool and walked away from without looking back.

-

Chuck stood, looking after Blair. Watching her walk away.

She hadn't let him win, because she hadn't said it to him. She hadn't said how she really felt. So he didn't win.

But...

She was giving up?

No. She couldn't be. Blair Waldorf _never_ gave up. Blair Waldorf won. Every time.

Chuck's mind shifted into gear.

She was trying to play him again. Trying to get him to believe that if he didn't say it, he would lose her. For good.

Smirking, Chuck followed after her.

He would show her. Show her how she needed the games just as much as he did.

His hand closed over her arm and tugged her in a different direction to where she was headed. Her shocked face turned to his and he smirked.

"Let me go."

Chuck didn't answer.

"Let me go, Chuck."

-

He wasn't hurting her arm, but he wasn't letting go. She could slip out of his grasp if she wanted too. Blair considered it.

But she wanted to know what his next move was even more.

"Where are we going?"

Blair tried to stamp her foot and stop. He wasn't _answering_. Damn it. He was half-dragging her up some stairs and she could hear the club's music grow distant and dull with every floor they passed. The clicking of her heels was the only sound other than their breathing and the rustle of his jacket against her dress.

They reached the top and Blair furiously tried tugged her hand away, but his grasp had tightened significantly. He pushed through the very last door and pulled Blair after him into the cool, dark night.

"Damn it, Chuck. Don't you have someone else to torture?" Blair's skin tightened at the cold and all the hair on her arms and back stood on end. She noted that for once it was clear out with not a cloud in sight. Considering it was November, this seemed almost like a miracle. It had rained last night, though, heavily.

"Probably. But where would the fun be if it _wasn't_ you?" Chuck smirked and pushed her up against the brick wall behind her.

"Chuck." Blair's voice cut through the night as his fingers slid into her hair and brought her closer to his lips. His hips were pushing against hers insistently, making it clear to her what he wanted. He was deliciously ready for her.

"Chuck, we can't do this," Blair pushed at his shoulders as his lips travelled down her neck torturously.

"Like that ever stopped us before," Chuck's said in her ear, gritty and deep. His voice grabbed on to her nerves and rattled down through her, sitting right at her centre like a nervous ball of energy. Blair's knees went weak and her toes were going numb from the cold.

"I'm not saying it." Blair's arms were wrapped around Chuck's neck now, sucking his heat and she was on her tippytoes to reach his lips and press against them. Her chest was flush with his and their breathing was picking up. Blair's dress was floating in the slight breeze that passed by the two.

"Who says you have to say it?" Chuck ran his hands down over Blair's hips and squeezed her backside, prompting her to hop. He lifted her up and used the wall for leverage to find his new centre of balance. Blair's ankles locked around his waist and she latched her lips to his again, her fingers in his hair, pulling and tugging and wanting.

"That's the point of the game, Chuck. So we can see who's weaker."

Chuck fisted his hand in the fabric of Blair's dress and pulled down one side, exposing a breast for his attention. Blair gasped at the increase in skin exposure to the chilly air on the roof. As soon as the cold had come, the heat arrived as Chuck's mouth descended on her, sucking a nipple in and warming it with a laving tongue. Blair's head was back against the brick wall, stuck there with the sensations Chuck was inducing.

"Can't we have half-time? Besides, we both know I'm not the weaker one," Chuck smirked, letting go of her nipple and looking up at her. Her now wet skin puckered almost painfully in the cold.

Blair's hand cracked across Chuck's face for the second time that night, and he growled, eyes flashing.

"No, we can't have '_half-time_'. That was never part of the deal." Chuck's lips were back on her chest and he was tugging down the other side of the dress with his teeth while his hands cupped her and held her up. Steadying himself, he pulled away from the brick and turned. Blair's arms locked around his neck once more and she clutched at him for her life as he took a few steps easily and pushed her against an angled skylight. "I hate you," she spat up at Chuck.

He laughed.

"Then why are you letting me do this?" Chuck's hips found hers yet again, and he ground down into her, making her moan out before she could stop herself.

She went to raise her hand again and Chuck caught it. Pulling his scarf from his neck, he wrapped it around her wrists a few times and wound the trails around his hand, closing his fist and pulling her wrists up and pinning them to the glass she pressed against. Blair stopped moving and glared up at him, eyes flashing murder.

"Get out of the habit of slapping me, Waldorf. I know other ways to tie you up," Chuck smirked but it fell off his face as soon as Blair arched her hips up, making sure to get him where it meant something.

"So we can have half-time, then?" Chuck groaned at her.

She struggled against the scarf for a few seconds before glowering back up at him.

"Can we agree to disagree?" Chuck prodded.

Blair shook her head back and forth furiously, not speaking. Chuck laughed again and ran a hand up her thigh before brushing her damp underwear. Blair's back was off the chilled glass again and she was moaning because he was so close to where she wasn't going to let him go. She was going to _win_.

Chuck was bunching the skirt of her dress up around her hips and she was _letting_ him. She was too lost. Her hips lifted up briefly so he could push the back up. When she lowered back down a second later, she hissed as the cold glass sucked all the heat out of her flesh, numbing her quickly. Her fingers were going cold and Chuck still had her arms secured up above her.

His mouth was back at her throat again, and his fingers slipped up her thighs after letting her wrists go, one holding the chilled skin of her bum, the other pushing past the red underwear he bought her a few days ago. Chuck smirked. Blair threw the scarf own to the cement.

"You hate me, huh?" Chuck bushed over her slick lips, and Blair choked back an answer.

Chuck's fingers breezed over her, and he pushed one digit into her opening, curling it up. Blair moaned needily and felt herself coiling in ecstasy. Her head was turned to the side as Chuck retracted his hand and rubbing her clit in large, slow circles, before going back into her. Her hips were moving with him.

She wanted this. She really wanted this. She was wound so tight already and he was releasing her and she was going to let off steam. She wasn't going to last long.

It was cold, and she had her dress around her middle and her legs locked around Chuck who was keeping her warm, and the stars were glittering above them in the dark sky, and a cool breeze was gliding over her skin and... She nodded up at him.

"What?" He asked huskily.

"I agree to disagree and accept the notion of half-time. It doesn't mean you've won," Blair rushed out desperately. "It means we're in a Time Out for reasons of retaining some sanity." Blair blinked up at him and arched off her back yet again, moaning for him.

"I agree." Chuck picked up the pace, moving in and out of her roughly.

She pulled him down by his jacket and cemented her lips to his, ravishing him and she went to pieces under him, clutching his face to her neck. As she shook with release and cold, Chuck was undoing his belt and dropping his pants down his thighs to his knees and leaning over her again.

Hovering over her, he looked down into her eyes.

She opened her legs farther, cradling him perfectly and she reached between them pulled down his boxers for him. He was tugging down her underwear, smirking still and he managed to work them off quickly. Clutching them in his right hand, he kissed her, deep and needing.

"Oh, god," Blair whispered. Her hands were shaking and she was urging him on and scooting to the edge of the glass for him and then he was in.

"Oh, _god_," she moaned, this time her voice grinding out hoarsely.

"Oh, god," Chuck drew out, shaking above her like a leaf.

He was hard and brushing all the right spots in her and she was wet and hot and tight and squeezing him wonderfully and their bodies crashed together repeatedly. Tension was building in Blair's abdomen again and it was spiralling out of control too quickly. Chuck's eyes were closed and he was breathing rapidly.

If anyone in the club looked up and the lights were just so, they would see Blair's ass pressed against the glass and Chuck sliding in and out of her quickly. They would see Chuck's hands fisted in Blair's hair and Blair's nails raking at the glass urgently.

Chuck was pounding into her and Blair's chest was heaving. Chuck was grunting low and quiet and his movements were getting more erratic. He reached between them and tweaked Blair's attentive nub and she came undone, tossing her hair back and forth and screaming to the tops of the buildings. Literally. She was shaking and moving against him and Chuck followed soon after, groaning in her ear, freezing above her, limbs tired and stiffening from the cold as the heat wore off quickly.

Chuck pulled out of Blair, who was composed again. She stood, pulling her dress up, and smoothing out the white chiffon. Her face contorted and she reached the hem.

"Chuck Bass!" Chuck looked up from re-buckling his belt, eyes wide.

"What?"

Blair held out a finger for him to see.

Chucks face split into a smirk once again. He'd spilled a drop on her dress.

"A keepsake," he shrugged and picked up his scarf.

"Urgh! You're disgusting." Blair turned after wiping his come on his jacket and started walking away with a spring in her step to the door they used on the way up. Her dress danced madly in the cold air and her heels clicked dangerously.

Chuck looked around, making sure they had everything. He still had the red underwear clutched in his hand. Pocketing the lace, he followed after her down the stairs and through the crowd. She was already out front, gabbing on her phone to her driver, snapping at him to hurry up.

Chuck approached and stood beside her.

"That should tide you over until _next_ Sunday, right B?" He turned and looked at her, amusement playing on his face as his driver pulled up just on time.

Blair's eyes flashed to his and she stayed silent, her lips pursed.

Strutting up to the back door, he opened it and slid in, shutting the door behind him. The window slid down with a whir and he tipped his head at her as the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

Blair stomped her heel, furious.

Basstard.

_She was going to win._

---

Spotted: World War III. If only all wars ended just as quickly with the promise of more to come. As for me, I'm happy right where I am. Until next time, UES. xoxo

**Hey!**

**So thank so much to all the people who reviewed, new and old. You guys brighten my life when I get a review.**

**I hope everything is clear.**

**Neither won, and the game is still on. Neither of them said 'I love you' to the other. I thought I explained their relapse well as 'half-time'.**

**It started with a game and finished with one, and in my opinion, that's what makes Chuck and Blair so good. It never really stops between them. Even when they both know the other loves them.**

**So. We're finally at the last chapter. I have to say I loved writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much.**

**My only other unofficial poll: Which chapter was your favourite and why?**

**Please review!**

**-M**


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